car.
Paige’s pulse tripped double-time on the silent ride. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. All she could think of was the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d held her on the dance floor, the way he’d teased her with those almost-kisses. Her blood hummed through her veins, drowning out every thought of coherent conversation, blinding her to the image she’d formed in her head of him sharing a woman with another man.
He didn’t speak either, just pulled into his apartment complex. He parked, sat behind the wheel for a bit—he’d better not be talking himself out of this—then pulled the keys from the ignition and walked around to open her door. She put her hand in his, wanting to squeeze—seeking reassurance or giving it, she wasn’t sure. But she was aiming for sophisticated here. She let him lead her to the second-floor apartment, and watched as he unlocked the door.
She had imagined his apartment as many things, from the Dudley-Moore-like bachelor pad with everything designed to seduce, to a leather-and-black elegance. She was unprepared for the comfort of the place, the plush rust-colored leather couch, angled toward the pine entertainment set with the flat-screen TV, the granite-topped pass-through bar with a cast-iron wine rack and neat stack of newspapers. A pair of athletic shoes sat on the floor at the end of the couch. So—unpretentious. She got the feeling he always wore a mask, tried to be someone he wasn’t. But here at home, here with her…
He turned her into his arms and curved his hand under her jaw, lifted her face for his kiss.
Again, not what she expected, soft, gentle, reverent as his lips moved over hers, fit over hers. His fingers tangled in the soft hair at the back of her neck. She sighed and leaned into him, her palms pressed against his chest, trapped between them. He was every fantasy come true as he explored her mouth, stroked her skin. His touch trailed down her bare shoulder, her arm, before he closed his hands over her shoulder and broke the kiss. Without a word he turned her away and drew her back against his chest. She gasped when he traced the line of her shoulder with his lips.
“Wanted to do that all night,” he said against her skin. “You take my breath away.”
She tried not to think that he probably said that to any number of women, only gripped the bar in front of her as his lips coasted down her spine, tingles following his touch. Her skin anticipated it, until there was nothing but his mouth and hands. He turned her again and rose at the same time to claim her mouth. She wound her arms around his neck just to stay upright and opened for his kiss.
She could taste her skin on his lips and moved against his erection until he growled a warning. She thought about growling back. After all, he wasn’t even touching her, only braced his arms on the bar behind her. She was the one clinging to him, her touch restless on his chest, his shoulders, seeking the warmth of his skin, wanting to feel his naked flesh against hers. Impatient with his pace, she slid her fingers between them and worked loose the top few buttons of his shirt. She dipped her fingers inside to stroke his chest hair. God, she loved his chest hair. She wanted to be greedy and rip his shirt open, but remembered how much he spent on clothes. Pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate that. So she unbuttoned a few more, aching to feel the rasp of his hair against her nipples, which he was completely ignoring as he kissed her.
He shifted his attention to her jaw, then the sensitive skin below her ear, his stubble rasping. Her nipples were so hard they hurt, and she shifted her weight on her heels to ease the ache between her legs. Why was he torturing her?
He dragged his lips forward to tease her throat, then her collarbone. She let her head fall back as he kissed his way along the bodice of her dress, teasing her with his proximity to her nipples, still not touching her. She pushed her
Paige’s pulse tripped double-time on the silent ride. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. All she could think of was the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d held her on the dance floor, the way he’d teased her with those almost-kisses. Her blood hummed through her veins, drowning out every thought of coherent conversation, blinding her to the image she’d formed in her head of him sharing a woman with another man.
He didn’t speak either, just pulled into his apartment complex. He parked, sat behind the wheel for a bit—he’d better not be talking himself out of this—then pulled the keys from the ignition and walked around to open her door. She put her hand in his, wanting to squeeze—seeking reassurance or giving it, she wasn’t sure. But she was aiming for sophisticated here. She let him lead her to the second-floor apartment, and watched as he unlocked the door.
She had imagined his apartment as many things, from the Dudley-Moore-like bachelor pad with everything designed to seduce, to a leather-and-black elegance. She was unprepared for the comfort of the place, the plush rust-colored leather couch, angled toward the pine entertainment set with the flat-screen TV, the granite-topped pass-through bar with a cast-iron wine rack and neat stack of newspapers. A pair of athletic shoes sat on the floor at the end of the couch. So—unpretentious. She got the feeling he always wore a mask, tried to be someone he wasn’t. But here at home, here with her…
He turned her into his arms and curved his hand under her jaw, lifted her face for his kiss.
Again, not what she expected, soft, gentle, reverent as his lips moved over hers, fit over hers. His fingers tangled in the soft hair at the back of her neck. She sighed and leaned into him, her palms pressed against his chest, trapped between them. He was every fantasy come true as he explored her mouth, stroked her skin. His touch trailed down her bare shoulder, her arm, before he closed his hands over her shoulder and broke the kiss. Without a word he turned her away and drew her back against his chest. She gasped when he traced the line of her shoulder with his lips.
“Wanted to do that all night,” he said against her skin. “You take my breath away.”
She tried not to think that he probably said that to any number of women, only gripped the bar in front of her as his lips coasted down her spine, tingles following his touch. Her skin anticipated it, until there was nothing but his mouth and hands. He turned her again and rose at the same time to claim her mouth. She wound her arms around his neck just to stay upright and opened for his kiss.
She could taste her skin on his lips and moved against his erection until he growled a warning. She thought about growling back. After all, he wasn’t even touching her, only braced his arms on the bar behind her. She was the one clinging to him, her touch restless on his chest, his shoulders, seeking the warmth of his skin, wanting to feel his naked flesh against hers. Impatient with his pace, she slid her fingers between them and worked loose the top few buttons of his shirt. She dipped her fingers inside to stroke his chest hair. God, she loved his chest hair. She wanted to be greedy and rip his shirt open, but remembered how much he spent on clothes. Pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate that. So she unbuttoned a few more, aching to feel the rasp of his hair against her nipples, which he was completely ignoring as he kissed her.
He shifted his attention to her jaw, then the sensitive skin below her ear, his stubble rasping. Her nipples were so hard they hurt, and she shifted her weight on her heels to ease the ache between her legs. Why was he torturing her?
He dragged his lips forward to tease her throat, then her collarbone. She let her head fall back as he kissed his way along the bodice of her dress, teasing her with his proximity to her nipples, still not touching her. She pushed her
Similar Books
